Bella the Vampire Slayer
by Cardio Necrosis
Summary: What if Buffy Summers had never ceen Called? What if it were some other character from another fandom who was chosen to kill demons and the forces of darkness? What if the slayer had been . . . Bella Swann? A parody.
1. School Hard With A Vengeance

**Disclaimer: Wow, I so don't own _Buffy the Vampire Slayer._ It belongs to Joss Whedon. And I really, _really_ don't own Bella, or anything _Twilight_ related.**

**This is a massive parody, and it is not exactly kind towards Bella from _Twilight._ I've read the books, and I don't like them. If you're going to throw a fit over me making fun of something I don't like, then please click X. If you're mature enough to read a parody of something you like (if you do like _Twilight_,) then continue. I also make fun of certain BtVS elements, as well as fangirls, fanboys, and character bashing, so it's not all about how crappy I think _Twilight_ is.**

**This originated from a lot of people saying _Twilight_ is a rip-off of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and Bella/Edward is a rip-off of Buffy/Angel. As much as I dislike the franchise, I will defend Steph Meyer in saying that it is NOT a rip-off. She's created her OWN world and her own mythos. And also, because I was forced to watch the _Twilight_ movie, and thusly needed a BtVS fix and watched _The Harsh Light of Day_ right after . . . but there'll be more on that when I get to the Gem of Amara chapter. **

**Spike is more of a main character than Angel is simply because I like Spike better, and he was on the show more.**

**Each chapter title will be a spin on the episode the chapter is taking place in.**

**Each chapter is a stand-alone. So this chapter has nothing to do with the next chapter. Just assume that everything up until that chapter played out canonically, unless I state otherwise. Also, the chapters (so far) are turning out to be rather short, so don't worry about me posting something that will take days to read.**

Bella the Vampire Slayer

_School Hard . . . With A Vengeance_

"You said the cow should touch me from Thursday," Willow told Bella, who was disinterestedly playing with her hair.

"French was never my forté," Bella pouted, leaning against the back of her chair, and glaring at the assignment.

Willow fidgeted in her seat, and Bella ignored her movements. She didn't know why she had to be here waiting for Angel. Angel should just be near her, always. She shouldn't have to waste time with her best friends when she could be making out with the glorious hunk of brooding, beautiful man that was her boyfriend.

"Guys, someone out there has to dance with me," Xander said, coming up behind them.

"I don't dance," Bella told him, for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Why were her friends such idiots?

Willow sighed and looked at Xander, her face scrunched up a little. "Well we need to study French, Xander, because--"

"You've been studying for, what, fifteen minutes? Come on, one of you guys have to dance with me."

"I. Don't. Dance," Bella gritted between her teeth.

"Yes, we all know this, Miss Broody Pants, yeesh," Xander grumbled. Bella turned to glare at him. He ignored her and grabbed Willow's hand. "Come on, Wills, let's get the groove on."

Bella watched them dance for a moment, then searched the crowd for Angel. She didn't really like large places, or large crowds. In fact, she didn't really like much of anything, except McBroodmaster Angel. Perhaps it was because he, like her, found little enjoyment in anything except complaining about how their love was doomed. It was so romantic.

Someone sat across from her. She eyed the stranger warily. He was hot, no doubt. Very hot. He was hotter than the Sahara. "Hey, man," he said, wiping the sweat form his brow, panting heavily, seeing as he was overheated. "Do you mind if I have that drink, man? It's sweltering here. I grew up in Alaska, so I'm dying of heatstroke."

"Ugh, go ahead," she muttered, casually waving him away with her hand.

The stranger grabbed her drink and downed it greedily.

Another man took the previous stranger's place. This man was downright sexy. He was like a statue chiselled to perfection. If Aphrodite were male, she would be the man before her. His azure blue eyes fixed upon her hungrily, passionately, as though he were the spoon digging into a dish of delicious ice cream. Everything about him was perfect--his soft, full lips; the way his chiselled cheekbones were so prominent; and once, again, his eyes. His eyes were soft, yet menacing at the same time; as though he wanted to make love to her and kill her; like he was a predator, and she were his prey . . . And his radioactive hair shone like the sun on a sunny day at the beach, his skin pale like the effervescent moonlight in the sky . . .

Angel, her hot, steamy, brooding Mister Darcy-like boyfriend, paled in comparison to the sexiness of whatever-his-name was in front of her. Compared to the sexy stranger, Angel was a squinty-eyed, caveman-browed, depressing little stalker. She cared for his less-attractive form no longer, not now that the stranger was looking at her in a way that made her want to throw him to the ground and rape him.

But with consent.

"Hi," she greeted, sounding bored, although on the inside she was fluttering with excitement.

He tilted his head, looking her over carefully. "Right . . ." With that, he stood up out of his chair and left the table.

Bella stared at him as he sauntered away, shaking his head.

"Jerk," she grumbled. If he was going to treat her as though she didn't exist, then she was going to brood and wonder and whine and mope about it for at least a month. It was just unheard of that someone would not like her the moment they laid eyes on her. Everybody loved her, for no reason, unless they were jerks. So therefore, he was a jerk.

What a . . . jerk.

"Where's the phone? I need to call the police. There's some big guy out there trying to bite someone!" said a sexy British voice from somewhere near her. She turned to see the sexy bleached stranger, then remembered she was the slayer and that she should probably go and kick some undead ass.

She took off to the back alley to see a vampire trying to bite a girl. "Hey! You--you--you better not--if you--that's just--just don't! Don't kill her!" she stuttered, so angry she apparently forgot how to speak like a normal person.

"Oh my God. Your blood . . . it smells . . . amazing!" the vampire exclaimed, shoving the first girl away. "God, Slayer! You smells better than anything I've ever smelled!"

Bella let out a tired sigh. "Yeah. Like I've never heard that before. Xander," she said, to Xander, who appeared at that moment with Willow in the alley for convenience, "get me a stake."

The two of them fought. It was pretty epic.

And then she staked him with the stake Xander brought her, but the author was too bored with his character to actually describe it in detail. Who cared about Xander? The author wanted some sexy stranger action!

When the vampire exploded into dust, she heard clapping noises. The stranger stepped into her view, every step radiating confidence and sex. "Nice work, luv," he said huskily, still looking at her as though he wanted to thrust her against the wall and take her, hard and fast, right there, in front of her friends.

She tossed her hair out of her eyes. The light of the moon shone through the alley onto his alabaster skin, reflecting off of his amazingly attractive leather jacket, and brightened up his bleached hair. "Who are you?" she asked, in awe, staring at him with admiration, and knowing she sounded like a love-sick puppy but not really caring.

The guy seemed to catch onto the fact she was staring lustfully at him. He (without even trying to hide it) sniffed audibly, and grinned evilly. Bella couldn't think of why he would do such a thing, but she didn't care, because he sniffed sexily.

"You'll find out on Saturday," he told her, tilting his head and looking her over appreciatively.

"What . . . What happens on Saturday?" she asked huskily, walking towards him, staring at his beautiful, perfect, godly visage. They now stood right in front of each other. It was then she realized that she was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. No man this attractive could be unworthy of her love. "I love you," she said in a monotonous way.

"Oh, pet . . ." he whispered, brushing the backs of his fingers down her face. His lips curved upwards into a smile, the soft, smooth, full mouth of his making her quiver with want. He started leaning closer, nearing her mouth quickly. "Sod Saturday."

And then he promptly snapped her neck.

She lied on the ground, staring at the sky blankly, a dazed and infatuated smile on her face. At least she died happy.

Spike looked at Willow and Xander, who were staring at their fallen friend, in a somewhat bored-looking manner. Xander's eyes finally met Spike. "That was pretty impressive."

"Ta, mate."

"And you don't even have a thrall?" Willow asked.

"Hell no. Give Angel my regards, and oh, by the way, don't forget to tell him he owes me a hundred quid. And some o' his blood for Dru, you know, for that ritual. I didn't drive all the way out here to Sunnyhell to kill this undeserving bint."

Xander nodded. "Will do."

Spike gave him a mock salute, and strolled out of the alley, humming something under his breath.

After a few seconds of silence, Willow turned to Xander and inquired; "So . . . who wants to do Jell-O shots?"

* * *

A/N--please tell me what you think, and any suggestions are also appreciated. Constructive criticism is cool, flames make me laugh. Also, any anonymous reviews (be they nice or mean) will be responded to on my LiveJournal page. There is a link to it in my profile.


	2. Shalloween

**Thanks to Elodie and Wolfram and Hart! And thanks to all my future reviewers in advance. I do accept anonymous reviews, so don't be shy.**

**All OoCness and crappy metaphors are done purposely. 'Tis a parody, after all. And also, thanks to Joss, and thanks to Steph Meyer . . . for creating such, ahem, _interesting_ characters.**

_Shalloween_

"But I hate getting dressed up. Halloween is so immature--I stopped doing that kid stuff when I was eight or so. I can't really remember--I have a habit of repressing horrible memories . . . which includes fishing and spending time with my father and his friends mostly," Bella whined as Snyder forced a pen into her hand.

Snyder blinked at her. "Fascinating, Miss Swan. I'm glad you decided to share. Now sign up."

"You can't make me. It says volunteer," she deadpanned.

"I'm the principal. You're the student. You will do as I say."

Whining loudly, Bella signed her name on the paper. Willow and Xander signed too at Snyder's persuasion, although they were looking at her oddly.

"What?" she demanded angrily.

"You . . . repressed memories of spending time with your father? Are you . . . I mean, did he ever . . . ?"

"Did he ever what?" she asked, completely oblivious. Why were they both staring at her like she might break into hysterics any time soon? Sometimes her friends were total morons, and really, she only tolerated them to fill the void until Emo McCave-Brow showed to moisten her panties with his smouldering gaze.

Willow shifted her weight onto her other foot. "Well, it's just . . . if it was traumatic, I thought . . . well, you know."

Bella sighed. "I just hate fishing. It's so boring. So I repressed it, seeing as it was a waste of my time." Willow and Xander looked at each other, as if confused. Bella shrugged, and glared at the retreating form of Snyder. "You guys are so lucky that your parents don't want to spend time with you. God, it frustrates me how much my parents care. I mean, caring parents? That is so last decade."

"Yeah, you're _so unlucky,"_ Xander muttered.

"So, you hate fishing?" Willow asked. Bella nodded. "Is there anything you _do_ like?"

"Angel," Bella swooned in a whispery voice as her eyes sparkled.

"Besides that," Xander pressed, folding his arms.

"Oh . . . Um . . . Claire de Lune?"

Willow and Xander both sighed, but Bella had no idea why.

* * *

Bella sighed as she walked down the stairs, ignoring how Xander practically drooled over her. She was so used to men acting that way around her she wasn't even aware of it anymore. She was, after all, the new girl in town--which completely justifies the fact every male on campus drools over her perfect body and amazing personality, even though she'd been there for quite awhile. She knew Xander was deeply in love with her, and knew she would impress him with her historic costume. She felt very much like Elizabeth Bennet in the costume. Angel could be her Mister Darcy!

"Where's Willow?" Xander asked, looking past her.

"Dressed like a total skank upstairs. I honestly don't know what got into her. This show is about empowering women, not dressing them up like whores and acting like God's gift of entertainment to men. I believe in being a strong female icon for America's youth . . . which is why I'm totally not a whining weakling who waits around to be saved by a man."

"Yeah, because being confident in your body is so wrong and self-demeaning" Xander muttered, staring at something behind Bella with a small smile on his face.

Bella turned and saw Willow, dressed like a complete skank, walking down the stairs nervously. She gave a little wave to Xander. Bella looked back at her simpering lapdog to see that he was still smiling. Obviously an attempt to prevent himself from laughing uproariously at the attire of Willow.

"I'm sorry, I just . . . I'm not . . ." Willow muttered, then shimmied into her ghost costume.

"Aw, Wills, come on, you looked great," Xander insisted.

Bella snorted. "Trust me, Willow, keep the ghost costume on."

Xander sighed and shook his head, obviously as the distaste of Willow's random clothing choice.

"Thanks for being so encouraging, Bella," Xander muttered, leading the way out of the house.

* * *

She was confused. Why was she suddenly in such a strange town and time? And why were demons attacking the house? And what was this amnesia they spoke of? She bathed often! And who was this incredibly handsome man with the overlarge brow? Oh, he had a smouldering gaze about him! He could just smoulder at her all day!

But she was currently looking for a "stake" which meant absolutely nothing to her. She assumed he meant a weapon of some kind, so she grabbed the knife and started towards him.

"Oh, you lousy, good for nothing . . ." he muttered, then turned to her, his face a complete monstrosity. "Get me a stake!" he shouted as he fought the other vampire on the ground.

She screamed and ran out of the house.

* * *

The bleached menace held tightly onto her hair, growling like a sadistic lion, saliva dripping from his fangs. Her scalp stung with the grip he had on her, but instead of frightened, she was . . . aroused. Even in vampire face, he was far more attractive than the lump of depressing poofy-haired heavily-browed stalker who scoured the town in search of her because she ran away from him. Did the man not realize that running away meant she didn't want to be near him?

And with a sudden rush of light-headedness, her memories came flooding back.

"Mister Darcy?" she greeted.

"What?" Spike muttered, letting go of her hair, and therefore dropping the wig as well.

"It is I, Elizabeth!" she greeted, putting her hand against her chest.

The demonic visage melted away into a glorious image of perfection. His skin was smooth and like the alabaster glow of the moonlight; his clothes were the night that surrounded the moon; his eyes were the icy ocean that lay beneath; his body and posture was the shark that swam, decisively and predatorily, through the murky depths; his lips were like some other nature-like metaphor the author couldn't think of.

"Hey! I'm Mister Darcy!" some annoying dark-haired, less-attractive male called out to her. "Well, I mean, not really, but--but if anyone in this room were to be Darcy, it would be me, dammit! He's more like . . . Wiccam!"

The bleached god she knew as Mister Darcy raised a scarred eyebrow. "He's got a point, luv. The git's a depressing loner. I'm far more outgoing, attractive, and charming."

"You are not more attractive than I am, Spike," the man growled.

"Check the fan polls, mate," Spike teased, ignoring the other man's growls.

He scoffed. "So I gained a few pounds, but so what?"

Spike shrugged. "Women are shallow."

Willow raised her hand (conveniently there although technically, since she was no longer dead, she should have been on a random porch.) "Well, it's not like you guys are any less shallow. I mean, unless we're all walking sticks, we're pretty much ignored and thrown away. I mean, if we weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds, we're considered heifers!"

Spike nodded and pointed at her. "And then subsequently shot to be replaced by a snotty little brat," he stated, shaking his head. "I mean, look at the women I'm always paired with! Sodding waifs! Tiny li'l slips!"

Xander butted in. "Can I point out that my fanbase is far lower than either of your guys because I'm . . . well, I've filled out since season one quite a bit? I mean, I was the tank-top wearin' digger, and now I'm . . . well, the heifer, like you said, Wills."

"But you got Cordelia, Willow, Anya, and Faith. And the only pop star to guest on the show," Angel pointed out reasonably. "I got three spoiled little brats," he grumbled, kicking at the ground.

"I got a spoiled toff who thought she was better'n me an' later turned out to be a vengeance demon, a sodding nutter, a daft airhead, and a spoiled brat." Spike sighed, then rolled his eyes, pointing at Angel. "Well, an' him, but that wasn't ever on-screen. Well, an' I got Anya, too. She was a damn good shag. I never once got to get a good romp with that Faith bird, an' I _really_ wanted to."

Xander nodded to himself. "Huh, you guys actually make a fair point . . ." He then frown and whined a little. "But you have to admit, I've pretty much dropped off the face of the earth. You guys are all . . . I mean, you're _Piccolo_ for God's sake! I was the nerd on the show for how long, and _you_ get to be the bad ass? That's not fair! And _you_ have a TV show with Doogie Houser, and _you've_ got a TV show too with a really hot actress!"

Willow nodded. "That's very true. I guess people in general are just shallow." She walked over to Xander, still in his army uniform and holding his toy gun with a pout. She patted him on the shoulder. "And I don't think you're fat at all. You're pleasantly plump, and very kissable."

Elizabeth Bennet shook her head. "Just what on earth are you all talking about?"

Spike blinked, then turned back to her. "I'm not Mister Darcy. An' you're not Elizabeth Bennet."

Then all of the memories came rushing back to her, and Bella remembered who she was (for real this time.) She looked at Angel, then she looked at Spike. She couldn't deny they were both exceedingly attractive, but when it came down to it, she just couldn't be with a man considered to be less attractive in fan polls. Spike was technically the sexiest, and therefore, she realized that she was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

She took a step closer to him. "Spike . . . I love you," she told him in a horribly bland voice.

Spike smirked and put his arm around her shoulders. "That's right. Hottest in the fan polls, 'member?"

Angel scoffed and folded his arms. "Oh yeah? Well I've aged better than you have!"

Spike's jaw dropped, and in a strangely high-pitched voice (clearly expressing his rage and incredulity) shouted; "Son of a _bitch!"_

* * *

A/N--the TV show with Doogie Houser is _How I Met Your Mother_, which I don't own and haven't ever watched. But Neil Patrick Harris ftw, poppets. He rules. Also, the TV show with the hot actress is _Bones._ I love all you BtVS men, even if you are a) aging in a, um, more noticeable manner than others (I'd still totally go gaga over James, though, he's one fine looking older guy) and b) chubby! More cushion for the pushin'! And to be honest, I think David Boreanaz is cute . . . just not when he's Angel. If you're gonna be emo, you should at least be snarky.

Oh, as a side note, Spike says "son of a bitch!" in my fic the exact same way he does in the AtS episode, "The Girl in Question." I laugh every time I hear it.


	3. Die For Me

**To yupyup: I know I said I would respond on my livejournal, but I might as well do it here. Thanks for reviewing.**

**To Elodie: I forgot to mention in my reply that I too have noticed how she really isn't a feminist icon. There's nothing wrong with not being a martial artist, but I think it's ridiculous that _Twilight_ pretends to be the pro-female story when really it's very old-fashioned. Just admit you're old-fashioned, and move on. As you can tell by reading my other parody, I'm not exactly Chuck Norris--but I don't kid myself into thinking I'm the poster child for feminism, either.**

**Okay, reviewers, thanks for reading my story! If you're in the mood for something with plot, I do have other parodies that are more plot driven. Thanks again for reviewing!**

_Die For Me_

Bella stared at Angel, standing dangerously close to a girl who was perhaps prettier than she was. Although we all know Bella is highly desirable, it is not comely for a girl to be confident in her looks and must therefore think she is hideous. It makes her have depth, see. Low self-esteem is so very attractive on girls.

When she saw the bitch walking away (more like tottering like a toddler barely learning to walk) she started climbing down the ladder. Her foot slipped and she fell, banging her chin on each rung as she did so. When she fell to the ground, landing on her back and losing all air, she had to take a minute until she could breathe again. She slowly stood up, tripped on her shoelace, and fell face-first into the pavement.

She stood up yet again, and saw that her attack of klutziness had attracted the attention of her soon-to-be-ex. He wasn't that attractive anyway. His hair stuck straight up, and it was bloody stupid. Even though his eyes did smoulder something fierce, she could just not lower herself enough to date a guy who only knew three facial expressions--brooding, slightly less brooding, and horribly pained. Oh, right, and the fact he was obviously cheating on her!

Besides, the evil vampire Spike (who was currently trying to tear out her throat) was far hotter, and Bella Swan did not settle for anyone less than perfect.

"Bella, oh my God, are you okay?" he asked, as if he actually cared about her feelings, which he so obviously didn't. He rushed towards her, holding onto her shoulders, and checking her (conveniently unmarred) face for bruises. Which, of course, were nonexistent. Bruises aren't attractive.

She pulled away from him. "Back off," she growled.

Angel blinked. "Honey, wha--?"

"I saw you cheating on me! How cou--I mean--you son of a--you little--I hate--you stupid--you just--" she stuttered maniacally, so angry she lost the ability to form coherent speech.

"I wasn't cheating on you. Drusilla and I were just talking," he explained, giving his horribly pained expression. Or was it his brooding expression? They all looked alike. "Bella, uh . . . You know that I haven't always been . . . the way I am now. There's something about Drusilla I want to tell you."

"No!" she shouted, then shook her hear, tears of rage falling down her face. "I can't be with you! You only have three facial expressions! Spike has at least five! And his accent is way hotter! I'm done with you Angel! I'm going to Spike!" With that, she spun on her heel and ran in the opposite direction.

Angel looked heavenward. "You know, I have _one_ damn surgery and gain just a _few_ pounds . . ." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. "I just don't get it. His hair _glows in the dark_ for God's sake! And I've _so_ aged more gracefully than he has! I actually look younger now than I did then if I do say so myself!"

"There, there," Drusilla cooed, randomly reappearing to pat him on the shoulder.

"I don't get it, Dru," he muttered, looking at his childe, doing his horribly pained expression quite well at the moment. "He tries to rape someone and nearly everyone forgets or forgives him! I have consensual sex with a minor, lose my soul, kill a teacher, and brood an entire season when I get my soul back and leave her for her own good, and they treat me like a leper! It's not _fair!" _he whined, stomping his feet.

Drusilla comfortingly ran her fingers through his mane. "Don't worry, Daddy. All will be right in the end."

"How?"

She smiled ethereally. "You marry a Playmate!"

* * *

"Would you like me to get you a new bird?" Spike asked flirtatiously, brushing his lips against his dark goddess' knuckles. His eyes never left hers, and he saw the passion and love in her eyes reflected his own. It was amazing how much he loved her. Her mouth twitched upward in a coquettish smile. "One that's _not_ dead?"

The door burst open, and he heard footsteps. It annoyed him greatly, seeing as it completely destroyed his romantic moment with Drusilla. They were deeply, deeply in love, and they had yet to have an on-screen kiss, despite this being their third episode. It was really quite frustrating.

"This place is cool. I could totally live here," came the irritatingly familiar voice of Bella, the Vampire Slayer.

Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Is _anyone_ on watch? Hello, it's called security, people, are you all asleep?" He glared at his arch nemesis, then smirked at her, stalking slightly closer. "Or have I finally found a restaurant that delivers?"

Bella confidently strode up to him, her brown hair shimmering in the light. He noticed some split ends, and thought that her hair looked like it needed a good washing. But she smelled fantastic. Best blood he'd smelled in awhile. "I want to be like you."

Well that confused him. "What?"

"A vampire. Sire me. I've recently come to realize that I'm unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you, and wish to spend the rest of eternity in your embrace. Sire me." She brushed her hair away from her neck, exposing her soft flesh.

"I've known you for three episodes, Slayer. I really can't stand you. I don't exactly feature you living forever."

She blinked at him. "But . . . I promise you we can have sex for hours--days even!"

Spike arched an eyebrow at her. "Days?"

She smirked at him. "Days," she repeated.

He brushed the back of his knuckles down the side of her face. "Oh, Slayer . . ." He leaned forward, his lips barely brushing her ear. "I've got Dru for that."

He snapped her neck, and tossed the body to Drusilla. "I've killed two, babe. Why don't you feast on that? It'll probably get your strength up."

And so Drusilla fed. By feeding on the blood of a slayer (and we all know Bella's is far more special than anyone else's anyway) she was mystically cured of her weakness, and they began a rampage on Sunnydale. Angel thanked Spike and Dru for getting rid of his "leg-humping-bored-sounding-dog-in-heat of a girlfriend" and Joyce's feelings weren't ever discussed seeing as she was a tertiary character and nobody really gave a damn what she thought. Willow and Xander decided to moved to Canada. They would have gone to France, but Xander's family was too poor to afford the ticket.

And thusly, they all lived happily ever after.

Except Ford. He died of cancer a few months later.

* * *

A/N--I know that Dru and Angel didn't kiss in _Lie To Me_ but from Buffy's (and therefore Bella's) vantage point, it really looked like it had. Hence with Bella assuming Angel cheated on her.


	4. Where's My Spine? pt 1

_Where's My Spine? Pt 1_

Within the first five seconds of Bella attempting to ice skate, she remembered why Joyce had insisted she give it up. She'd only managed to go two feet across the ice before she fell flat on her face and skidded along the frozen, freezing ice.

Tears burning her eyes (out of anger, not in sadness) she tried to get on her feet, then fell on her ass. She remembered adoring Dorothy Hamil, and how she skated as if it were as easy as walking. She'd wanted to be exactly like Dorothy Hamil, and look cute and awesome as she sped along the ice, somersaulting through the air and doing amazing tricks. This was, of course, before she realized that ice skating was too dangerous to attempt and she sucked horribly. Now that she was sixteen and mature, she knew that ice skating and doing activities was pointless and dull--the home was the woman's place. Women were meant to swoon and be saved, not to be adventurous and talented.

After several more minutes of her skidding and slipping all over the ice, she heard a monstrous roar and looked over her shoulder to see some huge guy. One of his eyes were white, and his hair was long and scraggly. Shrieking, she tried to skate away as he barrelled towards her. Somehow, he managed to run on the ice without falling flat on his face. It was almost like he was skating on his shoes!

She went to skate away, but within a few seconds, he was only a foot from her, reaching for her neck. She screamed and tried to move, but because she was such a massive klutz, she slipped so spectacularly that she literally flipped in the air. The blade of her skates managed (out of pure luck) to slice open the demon's throat.

She landed on her side and the man who tried to attack fell to his side too, blood gushing from his neck, and spilling all over the ice.

"Bella!" Angel yelled, running over the ice, slipping in a few places, his arms flinging about to keep himself balanced. He finally made it to her side and helped her to her feet. "Wow, Bella, really, that was an amazing kick you just did! I was worried for you, but really, that was just . . . brilliant."

No way in hell was Bella going to admit she slipped.

* * *

Spike stared at Drusilla. "What?" he asked, not quite sure he'd heard her properly.

"The slayer killed the first member. Don't worry, luv . . . We've got two more." She hummed to herself and rocked, flipping over the first of the three tarot cards she had on the table before her. "The birdies tell me everything . . . Blood and ice, dearest. Like crimson flowers in the winter."

Spike shook his head and raised both of his hands. "Wait, wait, wait . . . Luv, are you sure the birdies aren't wrong? Maybe Angel offed the bugger, yeah? Came to save the day?"

Drusilla shook her head. "No, Miss Edith never lies," she whispered, although a second ago she'd said it was the birds who'd told her. "She sliced his throat, and killed him dead."

"You're sure this is still Bella, ducks? We're not dealin' with Buffy, right?"

"Still Bella, darling," Drusilla sighed, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. "I'm sure it was just a lucky shot. We all know Bella couldn't skate to save her life."

_Cue: laugh track._

Spike and Drusilla looked around the warehouse, trying to find the source of the laughter. They looked back at each other after the laughing stopped, and shrugged. "Well, don't worry, ducks. I'm sure the next one'll get her, an' then we'll have Angel all to ourselves." He pulled Drusilla out of her chair and pressed his lips against hers, savouring every second of it.

When they finally pulled away, Drusilla hummed. "May I ask you a question, dearest?"

"Yeah, pet?"

"What the hell can a bunch of worms do to the slayer?"

Spike opened his mouth to answer that, but then realized that hiring a guy who could turn into worms in order to kill the slayer was actually really quite pathetic.

* * *

"I should probably go hide," Bella realized, after Giles explained to her what the Order of Taraka actually was. She'd come up against a lot of demons and monsters before, but this time, it seemed way too scary for her to handle.

Surprisingly, Giles shook his head empathically. "No, Bella, don't--I'm sure you'll do just fine, fighting against these ruthless renegades."

She was glad of Giles' confidence, but still, she wasn't so sure. She'd only killed the giant Cyclops-looking guy by luck. As much as she appreciated her friends being so sure of her abilities, she wasn't. Besides, her friends were annoying tertiary characters who meant nothing to her, except to fill the void until Spike--oops, _Angel_ came along. Angel was her boyfriend, not Spike . . . Even though she constantly found herself wishing differently . . .

_Cue: image of thousands of teens wearing 'Team Spike' wristbands and t-shirts getting into a gang fight with thousands of 'Team Angel' merchandise-wearing teens._

"No offence, Giles, but I really do think I oughta hide on this one. I think I'll just wait for Angel or some other male to save me."

"Oh, big surprise there," Willow mumbled. "Bella, waiting to be saved by a man."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bella demanded.

Giles laughed pompously. "It's sarcasm, obviously!" Xander and Willow stared at him in confusion. He stopped laughing and nodded towards Bella, and then Willow and Xander started laughing along with him. Bella wasn't quite sure she understood what the hell was going on, but at least she knew Willow was just kidding around.

Giles stopped laughing as quickly as he started. "Anyway, Bella, I am confident in your abilities at fighting off the Order of Taraka."

"Me too," Willow chimed in.

"Me three," Xander agreed.

Giles smiled at Bella in a fatherly way. "In fact, I am so sure of your abilities . . ." he began, whipping out a mobile phone from one of his tweedy pockets, "that I will call Spike and tell him to send every member of the Order of Taraka to this library, this instant, for you to destroy. That's how confident I am in your abilities. Right, Willow? Xander?"

They had grins so large on their faces it almost looked creepy. "Yes, I so bet you could kill every single one of them!" Willow enthused, wit ha little fist pump in the air.

Bella looked at Giles, who was currently pressing a number on his mobile phone. "You know Spike's phone number?" she asked incredulously, staring at him with disgust (although really, she just wanted to beg him to give it to her.)

Giles stared at her blankly for a second, then flipped the phone shut. ". . . no," he murmured, eyes shifting from the left to the right, then slid the phone into his pocket. "No, why would I know that?"

Willow let out a loud and very strangled sounding chuckle.

Bella looked between all of them, then sighed. "Look, I'm glad you guys think I could do that, and I wish I could, but I think I really oughta leave and go hide someplace they won't find me." Willow, Xander, and Giles all shared a look, then sighed, nodding at her, and waving her off.

With that, she turned on her heel and left, knowing exactly where she was going to go hide.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Giles sighed. "Dammit. I thought she was going to fall for it," he mumbled.

Willow sighed. "Yeah, me too. Oh well--I'm sure one of them will find her eventually."

"Do you really know Spike's number?" Xander asked.

Giles smirked. "I got it from Angel--who do you think told Spike to hire them in the first place?"

* * *

Angel yawned as he looked down at his pile of fanmail. Most of them came with pictures of teenaged women in their bras and panties, sucking on lollipops and fudgesicles in a suggestive manner. He continually denied offers of marriage, but thanked them for the offer anyway.

He was in the middle of reading one of them, his pants growing uncomfortably tight seeing as the girl had written, in explicit detail, what she wanted to do to him when he heard someone knock on the door. "Angel?" Bella asked on the other side of the door.

"Shit," he grumbled to himself, then shoved all of his fanmail in the box beside his table. He heard a few more knocks, which he realized were a bit more persistent, and looked around his house in panic. He spotted the window, thankful that it was just barely getting dark, and so he didn't have to worry about being burnt.

"Angel, it's me, Bella," she called a bit louder, still knocking. "You in there?"

He charged over to it as the knocking got louder, swearing quietly to himself the entire way. He opened the window and crawled out (thankful that it was still the second season and he had yet to gain all that unsightly post-surgery weight, and could therefore fit through the window just fine) just as he heard the door open.

He quietly shut the window behind him and bolted as fast as he could away from the house, wiping off the sweat of his brow. "That was close," he muttered.

* * *

Bella walked into Angel's empty home, frowning. She was sure she'd heard him shuffling around inside, but when she'd walked in, he was gone. Perhaps she'd been hearing things.

His home really wasn't as interesting as she'd thought it would be. She'd been hoping for something more elegant, or charming . . . Or really, she was sort of hoping Spike would be there for some reason. She really couldn't think of why Spike would be lounging about in Angel's house, but she'd been hoping for it anyway.

Ever since the night he'd tried to bash her head in with a two-by-four, she'd wanted to strip him nekkid and ride him like a horse. There was something about him, something indescribable, that made her want to toss Cavebrow McFivehead to the curb. Alas, despite all of their sexual tension, she had yet to make Spike fall in love with her. She knew he loved her too--he had to. Why wouldn't he? She knew there was more to their relationship than just fighting. Every time he bashed her face against a wall, or kicked her in the gut, or threw a descriptive insult of how he was going to kill her over his shoulder, her stomach got all aflutter with emotion. Every time he stared at her with those hawk-yellow eyes, saliva dripping from his fangs, while he promised to tear out her throat, she could hear the undertone of his want and love for her in his voice.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a mocha-coloured girl ran in, wielding an axe. She swung, but missed Bella's throat by an inch.

"Em goin' ta kill you!" she shouted.

"Oh yeah?" Bella asked, remembering that Giles and Willow and Xander had confidence in her, and figured she'd probably be able to beat the hell out of the girl easily. "And who do you think you are?"

"I em Ken-drah, duh vumpire slayer!"

* * *

A/N--OMG! What a cliffie! I bet no one saw that coming! Just so you know, the next chappie will be a continuation of this one . . . since I know you would all die if I left you hanging with something like this.


	5. Where's My Spine? pt 2

_

* * *

_

Where's My Spine? Pt 2

"Right, and I'm just supposed to believe that?" Bella deadpanned with an eye-roll, lowering her arms from her fighting stance.

Kendra blinked. "Yis, of course ya are."

"All right, Atrociously Accented One, why on earth would I believe that? Someone with an accent that fake and I'm supposed to think every word you say is God's truth?"

Kendra pursed her lips. "Ay'll have you know dat mah accent is highly aw-ten-tick!"

"Oh yeah? Says who?" Bella retaliated.

Kendra folded her arms haughtily. "Marti Nox-en!"

Bella blinked, then nodded in acceptance. "Oh, okay. If she says so, then it must be authentic. Besides, it's not like I've ever heard a real Jamaican accent in my life either, so who am I to judge? Anyway, so you're the slayer too, huh?"

"Ah suppose so. Up en-teel Dru-sell-a slits mah throat wit har fingars."

"What?" Bella muttered, wondering why on earth and how Kendra was predicting such a death.

She shrugged. "Never mind. Let's get on wit da episode."

* * *

Spike walked into the bedroom to see that Angel was in there, waiting for him. Spike looked at Drusilla, who was busy having a tea party with Miss Edith, and then he dropped the dead body he'd brought home for Drusilla's dinner. "What're doin' here? I'm not s'posed to pick you up from Willy's for a coupla hours."

"Bella came to the house. I had to get away," he explained.

Spike nodded, then bent over and picked up the dead body beside him. "Want a little snack? Was gonna give it to Dru, but I'm sure she won't mind sharin'."

Angel shook his head. "No, I don't drink out of bodies, remember? But thanks for offering."

Spike nodded, then walked over to Drusilla, handing her the dead body. Drusilla hummed, held the body in her lap, then rammed her teeth into its throat and began sucking.

"So you just gonna hang out here, then?"

Angel nodded. "I guess. Hey, you got any more of that poetry? I could read that for a couple of hours, until the ritual."

Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. "God, Angel, you are such a pouf." Angel raised his eyebrows at Spike expectantly. "It's in the top drawer," Spike muttered, pointing at the dresser.

* * *

"Wait, where are you supposed to be from again?" Giles asked, polishing his glasses.

Kendra sighed. "Em from a specific town in Jamaica apparently. An' mah accent is viry aw-ten-tick for da region em from." She stood up straighter, holding her hands behind her back, and remaining very confident despite the fact nearly everybody had pointed out that her accent sounded like crap.

"Yes . . . I see . . ." Giles muttered before putting his glasses back on, although it didn't sound like he believed Kendra a single bit.

"At lest em not a whiny shallow girl who tinks dat waitin' around to be saved from air boyfriend is a good examp-elle for young girls to look up to!" she snapped angrily, tossing her thick, curly hair out of her eyes. "Be-sides, em not da onlay one wit a crappy accent. Ya tink mine's bad? Listen ta Angel's Irish one!"

Giles nodded once. "Yes, that is a fair point, I suppose."

"Wait, what girl are you talking about?" Bella asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"Now, so . . . You must've been called because Bella drowned last year," Giles said, completely ignoring Bella's question.

Kendra nodded. "Apparently. So, she died, den? Who in dair right mind would revive her from drownin'?"

Xander slowly raised his hand, smiling weakly. "Um, that was me. I kinda had to. The Master got loose and was trying to end the world."

"Plus, you're also in love with me. Everyone in the school is in love with me, which you would think would cliché and pathetic, except for I am the new girl in town, which means it's completely and utterly okay," Bella reminded.

Everybody looked at Bella for a long while, the silence growing.

_Cue: Crickets chirping._

"I'd like to point out that, because I didn't care about Bella's survival, I never went to her house and therefore, never got stuck in her basement with Cordelia, and thusly, am still single for the taking," Xander pointed out, smiling at Willow.

"I'm sorry, Xand, but I'm in love with Sp--Angel," Bella stated, patting her friend's knee sympathetically. "It's just that I could never be seen with someone subpar. I must only be involved with someone who is utter perfection. You see, my boyfriend must be a godly visage, and what every girl wants--and no offence, but nobody wants to date a loyal, slightly narrow-minded, average-looking loser like you."

Xander blinked.

Willow blinked.

Bella blinked.

The world blinked.

The author blinked.

Xander blinked hard.

Willow blinked harder.

Xander blinked hard with a vengeance.

Giles polished his glasses.

* * *

Angel read over Spikes' wonderful poetry. He didn't know why, but something about the way his grandchilde wrote brought tears to his eyes. He never really understood why Spike was so self-conscious about writings. What, with amazing poems such as:

_Darkness fades._

_Drusilla's hot._

_The End_

how could anyone read his stuff and think it was crap? Angel sniffed and wiped a tear from his cheek. It just tugged his heart strings, reading about the depth of Spike's feelings for his vampiric lover, Drusilla. It spoke volumes to him, and he couldn't fathom how it wouldn't speak volumes to anybody who read it. From the opening line--darkness fades--his attention had been rapt. It was beautiful, really.

Angel let out a sob and covered his eyes with his hands. "It's just so beautiful, Spike!"

Spike tugged the piece of paper out of Angel's grasp, shaking his head. "You know, this is the fourth time you've broken into hysterics over this sodding poem. Really, mate, it's not that good."

"But . . . But it's so . . . emotive!" Angel insisted.

"I'm 'bout to emote my fist all over your face you keep this up, Peaches," Spike growled, then went over to the dresser and put it back with his other scraps of paper.

Angel pouted, still not understanding why Spike was in such a pissy mood. There was a ringing sound suddenly, and Angel tilted his head. "What the . . . Your duster is ringing, Spike."

"It's not my duster, you nit, it's my mobile phone," he grumbled, then reached into his duster pocket and put it to his ear after flipping it open. "Hello? Oh, it's you. What do you want?" He was silent for a little while, only nodding once or twice during the silence. "Really? That's great. Thanks for callin'. Give the chit a slap on the back for me, yeah? Bye."

He hung up the phone and went over to Drusilla, kissing her on the mouth.

"What was that all about?" Angel asked.

Spike grinned. "Bella called Xander subpar, an' Willow went all black-eyed an' skinned the bint alive."

"Huh. Didn't think Willow had it in her," Angel said, nodding appreciatively.

The following night, Spike performed the ritual. Seeing as Angel had decided to go along with them quietly, Drusilla begged Spike to keep her daddy alive, and he obliged. With Drusilla fully healed, and Spike free to shag her as often as hard as they liked it, and Angel single again, the three of them started a rock group, and became the most popular band in the entire USA. Xander and Willow became their biggest fans, and won a contest to tour with them around the world.

Angel found a way around the stupid perfect happiness clause in his curse, and fell madly in love with Cordelia. Their relationship made top news in all of the greatest celebrity magazines, their love only rivalled by that of Spike and Drusilla's.

Because Angel never reverted to Angelus, Giles and Jenny lived happily ever after. They got married in the spring, and had twins, appropriately named Renny and Jupert. Joyce was once again not mentioned because nobody cared about her, seeing as she was a tertiary character who never got much play anyway. So, all in all, everybody lived happily every after.

Except Kendra, who got her throat slit a few weeks later. Nobody mourned the atrociously accented one, and impatiently waited for Faith to arrive.

* * *

A/N--On the commentary to _What's My Line? pt 2_ (at least I think it's part two) Marti Noxon insists that Kendra's accent is "highly authentic to the specific region in Jamaica she is supposed to be from." Everybody I know says her accent is shite, however seeing as I've never actually heard a real Jamaican speak (other than a few reggae songs) I'm not an expert and cannot give an opinion. However, pretty much everyone accepts the fact her accent sucks.


End file.
